


Let's talk about Phil

by AirTrafficControl



Series: Pips [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Camp Nanowrimo, Discussion of Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, It Gets Worse, Niece, Prequel, Sad, Simrah should be writing, Underage Drinking, then it gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-18 01:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1409857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirTrafficControl/pseuds/AirTrafficControl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Philippa Coulson's mother has just died and she is moving in with her Uncle Phil. As if losing a parent and moving halfway across the planet isn't enough, her new life is filled with disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence.<br/>It won't be easy for her to settle down but at least nobody is expecting her to be normal</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Departure

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of prequel to my first story about Pips which I have posted on ff.net and will get around to posting her eventually. All you really need to know it that Sophie Coulson is Phil's little sister and she has died in a car accident.

Pips surveyed the empty flat. There was an eerie silence that she had rarely heard, what with her mother's playing and her own music. Now the flat just seemed dead. Well, it was wasn't it?  
It was the day after Sophie's funeral and Phil had brought Pips to gather some of her things. Neither of them fancied going through everything of Sophie’s but Phil was going to throw out the food and Pips was going to pack up anything she might need. After all, Pips was going to live halfway across the world and it would take quite a while to get back. Pips had told her uncle that she was ready and, despite them both knowing it was a lie, he had gone along with it. Pips was beginning to regret that decision.

  
The flat was her mother's safe haven, none more so than the study Sophie had used for composing, Pips didn't dare enter. Instead she just picked up the key that was hidden between the exposed floorboards and slipped it into her bag, she didn't want anyone else going in there and messing with Sophie's work, not yet. 10 seconds later she swung the door open and observed the room. Her mother’s instruments were lined up against the wall and the desk by the window was covered in sheets and sheets of paper. Pips moved to the wall, packing up the instruments and attempting to organise the half composed music around the study. She tried not to cry, she failed. Every item in the room was something that Sophie had most recently touched, used and loved. If there was anything that Pips would need to bring with her it would be these pieces.

An hour later the two remaining Coulsons were walking out of the flat. Phil had a carry on full of Pips’ things and a SHIELD trunk containing items that could be left in the cargo bay. Phil sent a quick text and within a minute a black car appeared. The driver hopped out and placed the bags into the boot and helped both Coulsons into the car. The drive to the airport was silent except for the sound of the traffic and only once they pulled up outside Heathrow did Phil speak.  
“Is there anything else you need? We don’t have to leave yet if you don’t want to. We can stay longer.” Pips shook her head at her uncle.  
“I want to get away, please Uncle Phil, let’s just go.” Phil sighed but removed the bags from the car and thanked the driver who drove away without a word.

The journey through the packed airport was much faster than Pips had ever experienced but then again Phil worked for the government and had special allowances. Pips didn’t even have to walk through security, just to let them look inside her bag. They were in business, a luxury compared to the economy class travel that she had enjoyed with her mother. All was well as the plane started to taxi and took off into the murky English sky. Pips had never been scared of flying; it was almost second nature to her by the age of 5. She could navigate around Heathrow airport with her eyes closed and knew all the secrets to travelling light. That made it all the more confusing when she started freaking out as the plane started levelling off.  
Her palms were clammy and shaking slightly so she hid them in her hoodie pocket. She tried to slow down her breathing before Phil noticed. It wasn't that she was scared of a plane crash or any form of danger but it felt all wrong. Phil was looking at her strangely, she couldn't figure out what was happening.  
"Phil, help."

Phil was no stranger to panic attacks or break down; he had been a handler and team leader for more years than he cared to count. He could see Pips starting to breathe faster and her trembling hands. He waited until she asked him, not wanting to step in where he wasn’t wanted.  
“Pips, look at me. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere. This is not a car, there are no trucks.” He kept talking softly and took her hands in his. He stayed quiet and still as Pips started crying silently. “I know you don’t want to be here but we are so I need you to stay with me.” He said waving off an approaching air hostess.

“Pips, tell me what year Captain America was born.” Phil asked trying to keep her attention on him and not whatever horrendous thoughts were currently coursing through her mind.  
“19...1920” Pips stuttered. Phil smiled as Pips tried to slow her breathing down.  
“Well done, you’re doing well. Now what day was Captain America born?” Pips squeezed her eyes tightly a she tried to find the answers hidden behind the imposing images of wrecked metal and screeching tires.  
“4th of J, July” Pips answered.

The questions continued back and forth until Pips stopped shaking quite as much and her breathing slowed. Phil raised the armrest and allowed his niece to fall against his jacket, not at all bothered that the tears were still rolling down her face or that he would probably have a twinge in his left shoulder when he got up.  
The air hostess from earlier re appeared and offered to get Phil a drink, clearly wanting to know what was happening. Phil knew that it was better to have the plane crew on his side if he wanted to get through the next 7 hours so he told her that her mother had just died in a car accident and that she was very tired. It seemed to satisfy the woman who returned a few minutes later with a cup of something that almost tasted like coffee.

Pips awoke an hour before they were due to land at JFK and managed miraculously not to freak out again. She supposed it wasn’t the plane so much as the noise and the slight claustrophobia of it all. Phil made her drink a bottle of water and to talk to him about what she had been doing in school so that she hardly even noticed as the plane touched down on the runway. After thanking the hostess, who had helped Phil to get a sweater from his back to support Pips head (or his shoulder), the pair disembarked.

  
Pips had been to New York before several times but it had always been with her mother right next to her, protecting her from harm or from big issues like knowing when to take on or off layers and whether to sleep or eat and when. The young girl slipped her small hand into her uncle’s and realised that maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew. Maybe she would have been better in London after all.

Phil left no time for self doubt as he calmly but quickly proceeded to find their bags and head off into the great unknown of New York. It was just about 6pm and if she wasn’t already Phil knew that Pips would be hungry so he called the pizza restaurant a few blocks away and placed his order from the taxi. Once they arrived at the rarely used apartment that Phil’s main alias had owned for the past 4 years both Coulsons dropped their guards and relaxed a little. Pips eased off the coat she was wearing over her casted arm and sat down on the sofa looking small and fragile. Phil just had time to find some mugs that he had bought when he first arrived as the food arrived and after a dinner of pizza and suspiciously old coke both fell asleep.

When the sun finally rose hours later Pips woke up. She was staring up at a different ceiling, it was plain and white and not hers. She had a delicate navy blue night sky painted above her bed with accurate star charts, one of the only times that Sophie had ever dabbled in a different art. Looking around she could see a wardrobe and dresser that had probably never been used. The king sized bed had new, scratchy blankets and the carpet covering the floor was a clean beige. Pips decided that it was Phil’s room and that he had moved her there because there was a certain Bucky-bear tucked under her arm, the one her uncle had bought for her when she was born.

  
Her suspicions were proved right as she walked out into the living room gently rubbing her aching arm. Her uncle was sat atop the sofa, laptop open, working away. The blanket across the sofa made it clear that he had slept out there. Pips quickly apologised for inconveniencing him.  
“Hey, I am meant to look after you wherever I can, and there is a spare room but I couldn't find a sheet to make the bed.” Pips calmed down slightly as Phil stood up awkwardly.  
“I reckoned we might go shopping today. We need food and I haven’t had a chance yet to decorate here. Are you interested?” Pips nodded, picking at the hem of her shirt. The two separated and went to get ready before setting off into the madness.


	2. Arrivals

After a week of being holed up in the apartment, only leaving to get food or to go out to eat, Pips was bored. She was either bored or crying and she wanted to get out of the shrinking apartment. The blank white walls were driving her crazy and she had cabin fever beyond belief. She was tempted to get out a permanent marker and letting loose on the wall just to create something different to look at.  
Using the laptop that Pips had decided to take from her mother’s office, Pips started searching ways to spruce up her new enclosure. She had seen an amazing range of paint colours that she thought would look good in her new room and she just had to pick a theme.  
As she was trying to decide between an ocean theme and jungle theme Phil walked in. He watched her for a moment and looked at the sketchbook that Pips was rapidly drawing in before asking her what on earth she was doing.

  
“How would you feel about me decorating my room?” Pips asked her uncle using the puppy eyes that he had grown up seeing on Sophie’s young face. Phil was almost tempted to say no, just to see if her temper was the same as his sister’s but he couldn’t do that to her. The SHIELD psychologist that he had been emailing (as a friend and not in a professional capacity) had suggested getting Pips interested in a project and since she was unable to take part in sports until her arm was healed this seemed like a godsend. Pips face lit up when he agreed and with her good arm she pulled him down to the floor so that she could share her ideas.

The next day, after having settled on a British theme complete with painted on rain clouds and big red bus, Pips and Phil set out to go for the weekly shop. Somehow getting the numerous colours of paint and stencils was the easiest part of the task. Phil was used to searching out bizarre materials for the R+D department at SHIELD. Also with an inborn sense of organisation common in all Coulsons the two were able to locate everything in minutes. Everything changed once they moved over to Wal-Mart.

  
So far Phil had kept his shopping list down to what he could get from small stores nearby but he was running out of meals he could make with his limited experience and limited supplies. Pips had been informed that Wal-Mart was like ASDA; the 11 year old was fine with that having been to ASDA stores up and down the country. Wal-Mart was not like ASDA.

For one thing, everything was bigger. She had formed a basic list on things that she had realised she didn’t have over the week; chocolate, lip balm, sanitary towels, peppermint toothpaste. Of course in the three supermarkets closest to the flat in London Pips could have been in and out in 20 minutes. She was woefully unprepared for the experience. Luckily Phil was a master of preplanning and had a list that was ordered by aisle.

  
Once Pips adapted to the size, and adapt was something that Pips did quite quickly these days, she encountered problem number 2. The next person who told Pips that Americans spoke English would regret it. She looked at the milk and was close to having another breakdown with the fear filling choices. Everything was much too different and yet familiar, the part of her that enjoyed reading fantasy was sure she had fallen through a portal to an alternate universe. Thankfully Phil was on hand to steer her away from a philosophical debate of what real was and to guide her to the aisle with the chocolate explaining to her patiently what each one contained. Pips looked quickly at the trolley and considered taking everything out, surely it was too expensive to land a young girl on a professional bachelor but Phil reminded her that there was more than enough inheritance so support her and him and that the chocolate would at least temper her emotions, and stop her from starving living off of Phil’s cooking.

  
Pushing that problem to the back of her mind Pips pushed on to what would be the big problem, trying to negotiate the female hygiene aisle.  
Pips was an early bloomer (thank god she knew what she knew before Phil because dear God that could have gone terribly) yet so far she had simply gone to her mother whenever that stupid monthly occurrence had reared its ugly head. Changing times meant that Pips was trying desperately to remember what the pads she usually used looked like as Phil stood awkwardly behind her trying not to look absolutely insane. After a few minutes a father-daughter couple walked up to Phil and Pips and introduced themselves.

“Step-daughter?” the man asked Phil as the daughter headed to Pips and started asking her questions Phil did not need to hear.  
“Niece,” Phil replied and the man laughed before patting Phil on the back.  
“Don’t worry; the awkwardness will stop in about 22-25 years. Amy, my step-daughter, and I have this all down now, the simple thing to do is to get as many details as possible about the ideal item and then get multiple options.” Phil nodded and considered jotting it down as a key point but he decided he could remember it. A moment later Pips and Amy returned with many brightly coloured packets that Phil made a note of to write down later. Since Amy and Mark were going the same way as Phil and Pips the four continued shopping until much everyone had finally finished and they parted ways after exchanging details.

  
That night Phil cooked up a strange concoction of a stew like substance with meat of some kind whilst Pips drew out a final plan. She was very patient for an eleven year old and so was tracing out the bus on a stencil. She had already finished the London eye and the umbrella.  
Eventually Pips allowed herself to be pulled away from her craft to eat the meal that didn’t actually taste too bad. It was something Marcus had taught Phil to make in the Rangers; Pips decided that it wasn't irredeemable with salt and pepper although it was quite sweet. The two turned in preparing for a busy morning.

The next day Phil and Pips set about covering the small amount of furniture with white sheets and began painting, dressed in old sweatpants and huge old t-shirts. They had finished two walls when the doorbell rang. Phil ushered Pips into the hall closet/ armoury and instructed her not to open the door until he returned for her. He grabbed a silencer and screwed it onto the first glock he saw before heading for the door. Pips heard the bolt pulled back and the door swing open. Pips heard muttering between Phil and the new man, she wasn't going to investigate. She could hear footsteps edging closer to her and she held her breath, her good hand grasping for a knife that was stuck into the wall beside her.

There was a knock on the door and Pips relaxed for a second but paused, Phil would give her the all clear rather than cause her panic. She held up the knife and kept silent, prepared to fling forward and run. The door swung open and Pips launched herself at the figure slashing wildly. The man stepped sideways meaning that Pips fell forward and landed on her face.

  
“Pips, this my boss Nick, Nick this is Sophie’s daughter Pip.” Phil introduced the two as he helped his niece up off the floor and removed the knife before she did any more damage. Nick had, obviously, avoided the knife himself but there might have been a new scratch on his leather coat. Phil had noticed the scratch but thought that the man deserved it, scaring the daylights out of pre-teens. He refused to offer Nick a cup of coffee since he had no good reason to be interrupting his free time but the older man made himself a cup anyway, knowing instinctively where everything was kept.  
“So Cheese, I see you’re turning domestic?” Nick asked sitting himself down calmly as if he owned the place. Phil scowled and got a coaster for the mug that was threatening to damage his new table.

  
“I filed for emotional, familial and then for personal leave. I complete all my paperwork every evening and am still on top of all requisition forms for my department.” Phil replied whilst getting a drink for Pips, he noticed that she tended to drink only if a drink was put in front of her. Pips was nervous, sitting as far away as she could from the strange man she had decided was a threat. Phil watch the two observe each other and was tempted to laugh.  
“Marcus, what do you want? We need to get back to decorating and unless you want to help us?” Phil had no intentions of allowing Nick to stay but he knew it would work to get rid of the man. Nick took a long gulp of his coffee.

“Can’t a man catch up with a friend, and subordinate, in the tale of a tragedy?” Phil raised an eyebrow, so did Pips. “I want to know when I can expect you back at work, I need my one good eye.” Pips was confused as to whether or not the man was joking, the eye patch was putting her of slightly. Phil stood and took the cup away from Nick, no longer caring if he was being rude or not.  
“I will return when my leave is up Director Fury, right now I have more important tasks.” Nick nodded and headed for the door.  
“Barton needs a new handler,” the man said halfway out the door, finally getting to his real reasons for visiting, “I think you would be good together.”

That night, despite having painted the first coat of Pips room, Phil sat up thinking. There was something about Marcus’ proposal that was getting to him. He nodded off before he could find an answer.


	3. A new start

Chapter 3  
Pips looked into the mirror and frowned. She had never been a vain girl but she didn’t want to look scruffy on her first day, not that it was possible to look scruffy wearing a beige skirt, white shirt, red cardigan and navy blazer. Pips couldn’t really complain though because it had been just as bad in her old school and at least she didn’t have to wear a tie. Still she was trying to cover her scar with her hair, experimenting with draping it across her face. Phil saw her and told her that she looked like an old man trying to hide his bald patch so she stopped at once.

  
She was quite happy that the school would be small as she didn’t want to be faced with too many people, in her single month at the secondary school in London she had found herself faced with over two thousand strangers. At the British International School of New York there would be fewer than 300 students, she could handle that.

  
The previous Saturday had been spent at the hospital getting her arm looked at and her stitches out but she had a clean bill of health and was ready to go. Up until that morning she had been as well, she was bored of the apartment and wanted to go out and talk to people her own age, some of whom you be English and it would be like it used to be. Yet as she stood looking in the mirror shed suddenly became scared. What would happen if she wasn’t good enough, or if everyone had already paired up together and had made friends? Pips felt the butterflies multiple in her stomach and grimaced at the thought that she wouldn’t have her mother to run crying to. Of course Phil would try his best but he still wasn’t Sophie and Pips didn’t know if he would understand.

  
It was too late; Phil popped his head round the door and smiled at her telling her it was time to go. Pips took one last glance in the polished glass to check that she hadn’t got any toothpaste on her face and then headed off after Phil. She was carrying her old school bag, added to by Phil to hold enough essentials to last her at least a week in the wilderness; a phone, emergency rations, water purification tablets and at least three different types of currency. She could have withstood a nuclear disaster, almost.

  
Phil had decided that it would do Pips good to get the bus by herself from the stop down the road but for the time being he walked her there and waited until she was safe on the bus. He promised her that he would be in all day and that he would be available at any time, even if he had a meeting, and the two could return to a form of schedule. Pips waved but quickly settled to the task at hand, finding a seat.

Whilst Pips headed off to face her new school, Phil had to go backwards. He had used a fair bit of his vacation time, although he had plenty left should he need it, and was ready to go back and deal with the challenge he had been set, Agent Barton, Clinton F.

  
Phil had run to get changed back into one of his famous suits before heading off to SHIELD HD to deal with his newest team member. He had asked the specialist to meet him in his office after lunch giving Phil just enough time to have a final read through of Barton’s field reports and numerous complaints that marred his SHIELD record. Indeed practically every other handler had tried and failed with Barton and Phil was trying to not let them paint a picture prematurely. If he had not been so experienced in his past he could have been easily swayed by the negative comments and moans about a man who was reluctant to take orders and frequently went off grid to do as he wished. Phil only really paid attention to the two reports by Hill and Sitwell, both of whom were still negative of Barton but able to acknowledge that the man was talented and had got the job done.

Phil flicked through the pictures of confirmed kills, an awful lot of bullets from very long distances, but what really caught his eye was the selection of arrow kills towards the back, hidden away as if shamed. Phil had seen several exceptions made for agents who had unusual skills and he couldn’t figure out why Barton had not been assisted further. He also noticed that all of these perfect shots had happened on missions that were most complained about. Phil reduced even further his belief in the reports, deciding that a majority of the reports would just be humiliated handlers trying to reinstate their authority.

His thoughts were cut off by a slight clang in the air duct above him and the grate being pulled back to reveal a rough looking young man with short cropped dirty blond hair and sharp eyes. Agent Barton dropped down artistically and flipped off Phil’s desk perhaps trying to intimidate the man or perhaps just showing off. Phil observed his sloppy stance before introducing himself the way he always did, he always tried to be fair and equal.

  
“Good Afternoon agent Barton, I’m Agent Coulson and,” Barton cut him off moving forward and crossing his arms defensively in front of him as if to protect himself.  
“Are you sending my down to Antarctica or some type of Hell or are you just going to kill me?” the young man asked staring Phil down, he failed.  
“We tend to find here at SHIELD that once we have trained an agent we are reluctant to let them go,” Phil was prepared for the interruption and listened to Barton, picking up on the fact that his voice was raised.  
“So am I guarding penguins? Assassinating camels? Give me something to work with here.” Phil shook his head and kept his tone calm.  
“You aren’t going anywhere Barton, Director Fury thinks you have potential and I am inclined to agree. To be honest I don’t care what the other handlers say because I have only seen 1 failed mission and I’m certain agent Poplar is now in Greenland somewhere.” Barton smirked, he still had the scars from that botched mission, and he had been knocked from the roof of a bus.  
“Now take a seat agent Barton and tell me why on God’s green Earth I’ve yet to hear a good word about your archery skills.”

Across the city Pips was having a slightly less talkative day. Morning break had revealed that she had no diplomatic immunity, no driver, no maid and no ties any heads of states thus she had been dropped to the side. The only redeeming feature she had was that everyone wanted to look at her and marvel at her gruesome scar. Pips felt awkward letting people stare at it but at least it meant that she was invite to sit down with a group of girls who let her follow them like a little lost puppy. By lunch time she found out that she had been ignored because all of the boys thought she was ‘hot’ and the girls hated hr because of it. Pips didn’t really know what to do so she shrugged and went back to eating her sandwich.


	4. Snow days

Chapter 4

Pips managed to fit in well at least with the teachers. She was willing to always listen and try in class, mostly because she wanted to at least keep someone happy. None of the staff knew much about her yet except for her music teacher who had agreed not to make her show off her skills although had called her unbelievable on about 29 different occasions.

  
Phil was settling in well with his new asset as well. At least so far there was no picture of his face stapled onto a target (that he knew of). Barton had yet to stop the constant interruptions or the unusual entrances via the air ducts. Although they had yet to actually go on a mission together they had agreed to meet up once a week to go through all of the complaints in Barton’s file, looking for ways to improve performance. The number of complaints was eventually dwindling but it was slow going.

The days came and went as usual allowing the Coulsons to relax into a vague routine. The winter holidays came and went again with little celebration or joy. They opted to enjoy traditional thanksgiving sushi and Christmas Thai take out, Sophie had always loved the big turkey roast and the formalities but neither of them was up to celebrating without her. After an awkward exchange of gifts and experiencing the panicky mass of New York on December 31st, Pips and Phil reluctantly returned to work.

  
The weather had been dull and cold but that had just made Pips homesick for London. By January though the air changed, the rain turned to sleet and the sleet turned to snow. By Sunday evening a phone call had been made advising parents that schools would be closed in the morning and Phil cursed his lack of preparation. He didn’t yet have a baby sitter for Pips since he was still working part-time and although he wracked his brain the only thing he could think of was bringing his niece into work with him.

Pips were actually looking forward to her day off school, as would be any child, but also to see what Phil did. She knew that he worked for the government and did things he couldn’t tell her but she wanted to know what he actually did at work. She had repacked her school bag with the books she was reading and her iPod in case she got bored. She also had her sketch book so that she could finish her art project, drawing her family. She had gone to bed early the night before and was raring to go and see SHIELD.

  
Phil was less enthusiastic. He trusted that his niece would be able to keep a secret about what he did and that she would be able to sit quietly and occupy herself whilst he got on with his work, he was more concerned about what might happen if anyone came to talk to him. So far most people had no idea about Pips and that should have been the safest thing but sooner or later he knew this would have happened.

Phil and Pips made it into the SHIELD headquarters in good time and Phil was able to sneak Pips through security and into his office with as few people seeing her as possible. Not that an agent like Phil had to sneak, it was more along the lines of a tactical subtlety to avoid detection. Anyway Phil stowed Pips away in his office and made sure she was ok whilst he went to go and get a cup of ‘coffee’ for himself and a cup of hot water for Pips who had remembered to bring her with tea bags with her. In Phil’s absence Pips sat down on the quite comfortable sofa and pulled out the book she was reading.

By the time Phil returned from his scavenge she was lost to the world, buried in tales of dragons and princesses and of sassy, sassy wizards. Phil tried not to disturb his niece, silently sitting down at his desk and making a start on the ever growing pile of files in his inbox. Around 11 o’clock, as Phil tried to work out how many agents were missing due to the bad weather and which departments were most in need of heaters, agent Barton popped in for a visit. Literally.

“Hey, it’s a mini Coulson, what’s it called?” Pips looked at the strange man but wasn’t overly concerned; Phil wouldn’t let anything dangerous get that close to her. She didn’t actually mind that the mystery man talked about her like a zoo animal as long he wasn’t insulting.  
“Barton, this is my niece.” He turned to her, “this is Clint Barton and he has the social maturity of a 4 year old at best.” She nodded and waved but returned to her book, it might have been about Captain America or a dragon maybe both.  
“Are you going for lunch? Phil?” Both of them jerked up their heads and Clint laughed. “I could forgive the Captain America book but she’s called Phil?”  
She scowled, her uncle did to.  
“Technically I’m Philippa but I prefer Phil and so does he.” She watched the wide eyes, her accent tended to do that there.  
“Coulson, Coul-niece? Perhaps maybe Phil 1 and Phil 2?”  
He dashed out a minute later with the newfound knowledge that there were two Phil Coulsons and that was fine.

Phil praised his niece for reacting like a Coulson and passed her a treat from his drawer, the one Barton had been searching for since he found out about it the fortnight before. Unfortunately Barton didn’t stay gone.  
He returned two hours later with a large, hot cheesy pizza and a box from a nearby bakery that Phil knew was Barton’s favourite. Phil tried to shoo the pest but he was insistent and relatively harmless and Pips probably should eat lunch. Before Phil could offer to get a chair for his intruder Barton hopped up onto the windowsill and made himself quite at home.

  
“So then, Phil, and I mean the one who can’t drink yet, how do you like New York so far?” Pips looked to Phil to check that she was safe to answer and he sighed but nodded, neatly eating a slice without getting the 3EG-9Q13OJ form covered in grease, Barton was technically cleared to a quite high security level and he seemed to be quite good at keeping secrets.  
“Well I can’t say much for the weather but I have to say the food is alright.” Pips swallowed another bite of pizza; it was different from the pizza she knew but still tasty. Barton made a noise of agreement.  
“I promise you’ll be missing this snow when the AC unit breaks down in the middle of July and you run out of ice cubes.” Phil looked disapprovingly at his operative but his niece just laughed. “Oh wow, she has a sense of humour. Is it from the other side of the family?” Pips choked on her slice and took a moment to compose herself.  
“Honestly Phil is a laugh when you get him relaxed, all of us are.” Barton was well used to being dismissed and skirted around the topic, changing the subject to her school which Pips had a lot more to discuss.”

Phil observed the two and, as reluctant as he was to admit it, he noticed that they got along like a house on fire, or a government organisation being bombed, that sounded about right. Pips and Clint, as she had been instructed to call him, were chatting away and Barton had yet to interrupt her or to use any of his usual colourful language. As Phil was wondering whether it was all children or just Pips, and what affect his years in the orphanage had to do with it, he was brought back to the present by a paper plane landing on his desk.

Looking up from the accurate SHIELD fighter jet he saw Pips holding out a blueberry tart on a napkin. Phil thanked her and took it watching Barton from his perch grinning from ear to ear. Pips returned to her seat and mirrored Barton’s cross legged stance, already taking cues from the new man’s behaviour. Phil supposed that there could be worse role models, maybe. Whatever Phil thought Pips was clearly trusting of Barton and so when she asked him with wide enthusiastic eyes if she could go and watch him shoot some fruit he had to say yes. At least Barton would know that if a single hair on Pips’ head was so much as blown out of place his would never even have existed. Ah, the comforts that a shadowy government agency and friends in unbelievably high (and low) places could bring to a guardian in distress.

Despite what Phil may have feared Clint and Pips were remarkably well behaved. After a quick demonstration with Pips throwing up watermelons, oranges and even blueberries into the air to be shot down by Clint from quite some distance they went together to the old range. The range that was no longer used for new recruits or official purposes was a few floors below Phil’s office, in the basement and it was the perfect place for Pips to try out her skills with a bit of help from Clint. Contrary to popular belief Pips had handled her fair share of guns, whether on a hunting trip with her grandmother or the few times Phil had visited Sophie and Pips. Her aim wasn’t amazing and she couldn’t handle a strong recoil without flinging back slightly but she was pretty could for her age and Clint had plenty to work with. By the time Phil was ready to depart Clint had return a happy yet exhausted Pips who was chatting away bonnily in French that was much better that it had been the last time Phil talked to her.

  
In the car home Pips informed Phil that Barton had offered to coach her with her shooting and her French, thus every Friday afternoon Barton was authorised to go and pick Pips up from school and entertain her until Phil was ready to go home. Phil decided that the best was to deal with the situation was to be thankful that he got a few hours of peace.


	5. Summer lovin'

Chapter 5  
The next few months sped by and Spring was hardly acknowledged. Phil was busy trying to sort out the first missions for the new agents that had started training as agents of SHIELD in September and Pips had joined a local Basketball team which kept her occupied. It also meant that she was making friends as the kids from the neighbourhood, including Amy who Pips had made friends with since the shopping debacle, were less bothered about her social standing and more about how well she could throw the ball. It was these kids who started to get excited about summer and what her plans were once school was finished.

  
To tell the truth Pips hadn’t even considered it, in the past summer meant the Proms season and travelling around with her mother. She didn’t know what she would do with Phil; he couldn’t really take more time off work since he had spent time with her after the accident. Maybe she would sit in the apartment and read, make a book fort and live in another world until the air began to cool. Pips thought through her options as she stared up at the vintage Captain America poster that Phil had bought her for her birthday. They didn’t seem like overly exciting things to do but they would keep her busy for a week, maybe a fortnight at the most.  
When Phil got home Pips let him change out of the suit and sat him down at the kitchen table with a very serious ‘we have to talk’ face. The twelve year old outlined the dates of the summer holidays and the number of free weekends and the few events that had already been planned and then asked Phil what they were doing in the summer.

  
Phil was mildly shocked, which was a feeling he had avoided for the past month (Barton was conducting the marksmanship exams and was busy constantly). The senior agent looked at the calendar Pips had thoughtfully provided and mentally pencilled in the dated when he was needed at work. That left a 21 day break from august 5th to 26th which Phil’s internal international threat detector reminded him was the duration of the Beijing Olympics. Pips was watching him and he had to run through the options without moving any facial muscles or she would start presuming things. He knew that Fury had assigned several teams to the surrounding countries as protection in case something was to happen and also that the Beijing team had yet to be given an overseer, someone to check in every night and to report back to New York. It would only take an hour at most each night and there would be other agents who could take Pips for that time. The most important thing for the overseer was that they had a cover that was solid, who would suspect an uncle and niece taking a cultural holiday?  
“I’ll find something to do.” Phil said, feeling a bit mean as Pips face dropped but he knew that if he could sweet talk Fury then it would be all worth it.

Unaware of Phil’s plans and bored without Barton to talk to Pips spent her know free Friday afternoons in the range, which was unused without Barton’s permission, searching for an activity that she could entertain herself with. One that was widely supported by yahoo answers and mum’s-net forums was a summer camp. There were impossibly many online but Pips whittled it down to just three options that Phil could pick from. The first was a day camp that school offered, it wasn’t amazing and se would be stuck with the same people that she always was but it meant that she could be home every night and would be close by to Phil in case of emergency. The second was a relatively boring but mature camp for musicians that looked dull and quite serious but would be helpful, if it didn’t make her too homesick in the process. The last, and personal favourite of Pips was a 4 week camp that offered a wide range of activities and classes as well as camp nights and weekend trips. Pips must have watched the intro video at least 20 times in her planning and was sure that Phil would say yes.

Phil and Pips had separately decided to propose their ideas a few weeks later on a Saturday morning, Phil so that Pips could get excited and calm down before school on Monday and Pips because Phil was always at his most laid back and lest mentally active midmorning Saturday especially if plied with warm scones. That morning Pips went first and Phil was impressed with how much work his niece had put into deciding what to do with her time, he felt a touch mean that it was all for nothing but he did notice that her preferred camp had a half summer option that would end a week before they had to leave for China.  
Pips finally finished her presentation with puppy eyes that would melt even Fury’s theoretical heart.  
“What do you think Phil? It’s even got night security patrols and if you really needed to I’m sure one of your prospective applicants could miraculously find themselves as a counsellor, please.” Phil wanted to wait but Pips was holding her breath and was in danger of passing out.

“ What do you think of China?” Phil asked. Pips looked confused.  
“No, Phil the camp is in New York.” She replied still firmly thinking about the camp.  
Phil laughed and took the laptop from her, pulling up the Olympic schedule.  
“China, kiddo, do you want to watch the Olympics in China?” Pips stopped dancing around the house by lunchtime but only because she needed food and because she had to go to Basketball practice. That evening when Phil went to pick her up she restarted her dancing because Phil explained that she would probably have to go to camp for the first few weeks anyway. Mark and Amy were next to Phil and Pips when her gave her the news and couldn’t help but overhear, Amy grabbed Pips and started dancing with her as she was going to the same camp. Phil and Mark decided that it would be better to not try and separate them so they all went out for dinner together.

Pips spent the rest of the school year absolutely over the moon, barely able to wait until the bell rang on the last Friday afternoon. Clint hadn’t been able to collect her for the past few weeks but he wanted to spend some time with her before she left. “I can’t let you go to a camp with archery and have you let the side down, and don’t you dare think those Olympic archers are better than me.” Pips nodded patiently as her friend, and she did consider him a friend, continued with his rant. She knew that in another life he would be there with a medal around his neck and a place on the podium but she was glad he was there.  
Pips was busy telling him all about her plans and what activities she wanted to try when agent Hill entered the range. Clint looked angry and Pips moved to stand slightly behind him.

  
“Barton, we’ve a mission for you. Take-off is in 30 minutes, briefing once you’re in the air.” Pips mind raced, Phil was supposed to go on missions with Clint.  
“Phil would have told me if he was going away.” Pips said without really thinking. Hill stared at her and Pips wanted to look away but Coulsons were tough and she held the older woman’s gaze.  
“Agent Coulson isn’t going, Barton I suggest you go and pack up, I can get someone to escort Miss Levin to her uncle’s office. Pips glared at her for using her father’s name and corrected her, Hill didn’t take that well.  
“It’s okay Maria, I’ll take her.” Clint put away the gear and guided Pips out of the range before she had a chance to get into trouble with Hill. One the trip to Phil’s office Pips hugged Clint tightly and made him promise to come back soon. Clint smiled and shook on it, knowing full well that he might not be able to keep that promise no matter how hard he tried. He refused to enter Phil’s office, or to talk to his handler because Phil would feel an urge to go with him and it was much too dangerous.

Pips left for camp a few days later and stayed there for slightly longer than was expected. Halfway through the second day Pips got a phone call from Phil reluctantly telling her that he would have to go on a mission and that he wouldn’t be back for a long time. Pips was in a depressed mood but hid it from the counsellors and from Amy and her other roommates, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to tell them anything. At the end of camp, when Pips should have gone home for a few days before setting off for China, Pips was accompanied by agent Hill and another agent to the music camp that she had told Phil about and she stayed there until Phil returned, three days before school was due to start. Phil offered to not watch or find out any of the results, they could catch up together when he got back. Pips told him not to bother, it wouldn’t be the same.

  
For the first time Pips felt disappointed and she was forced to remember that Phil wasn’t her actual knight in shining armour, it was at least a bit scuffed at the edges. Phil was still human, still flawed. Then Pips thought took a different and much darker turn. Phil was only human, a fragile mortal that could be easily killed with a tiny metal bullet or well timed hit to the head. Pips won an award for the depressing and dark piece she composed at the music camp and even the college students had to admit it was talented. Pips hated it, it was vaguely reminiscent of her mother’s work after Grandma Coulson had died, frustration and sadness and futility. Pips didn’t order a video of the final exposition, she burnt the sheet music and listened to stupid pop songs until every chord had left her mind and she could forget it completely. By the time school had started again Pips had blanked the entire event from her memory, replacing it with a short summer ending before Phil went away and cutting until he came back.


	6. Bunker Buddies

Chapter 6

Since the unfortunate summer, Phil had started going away more often. Usually he would go for just a day and return late in the evening or early in the morning. That would mean leaving Pips with a SHIELD associated babysitter to make sure that she was safe and relatively content. Occasionally Phil would have to go away for a weekend or a few nights, when that happened both Phil and Clint would return acting stressy and over protective, reluctant to discuss their trip. Pips would insist on as much notice as possible and have long goodbyes watching Captain America films on mornings with pancakes and ignoring the future for as long as she could. Other times she would get a text and when it was time to go home or go to practice a black car with a SHIELD insignia would appear with a driver.

There was a friendly neighbour next door (a semi-retired field agent ) would check up on Pips and make sure she had something to eat and that she wasn’t being followed by a rogue foreign operative. The thing Pips hated most was not knowing where Phil was, she wasn’t cleared to know if Phil was in Japan or Iran or Switzerland. For all she knew he could be in Timbuktu (he wasn’t, SHIELD preferred not to get involved with civil wars.) Still at least she had always had the comfort of being around people she knew and having a fair bit of freedom. One day in early February that all changed.

It was a Tuesday morning. Phil had left for a mission the day before and the weekend had been spent relaxing and having as much fun as they could before everything went wrong. Phil was desperately trying to get home for Sunday, just in time for Pips thirteenth birthday. He didn’t make it.  
At 11:24 am Pips got a text on her phone, the one that people didn’t know existed, and Pips managed to convince her French teacher that she had to go to the bathroom.

Once she was there she read the message that Phil wouldn’t be back and that somebody would be at school to pick her up, that her security question was the exact diameter of Captain America’s shield and that he loved her very, very much. Pips returned to French to find 3 SHIELD agents stood in her classroom waiting to take her away. The first one Pips recognised was agent Hill, who was currently having an argument with her French teacher, in French, about Pips missing her homework. Pips tried to avoid eye contact with any of the kids in her class but one girl, the shy daughter of the Australian finance minister, gave her a sympathetic smile. Everyone there knew about security, about random men in black suits with black cars and about flying across the world in the blink of an eye.

Once they were out of the classroom Pips asked her previously agreed question and watched Hill roll her eyes as she responded with the correct dimensions. Pips agreed to go with them and followed them outside to yet another black car. It drove to Phil’s apartment and one of the men told her that she should pack anything she might need. Luckily the soon to be thirteen year old had decided at the beginning of the year that she had to be calm and organised, she was able to pack everything she needed in a matter of minutes. The last thing she did, after quickly collecting a handful of books to keep her busy, was to grab a photograph of Sophie and Phil from Phil’s office making sure to lock up behind her. The agent introduced himself as Sitwell and he gave her a weak smile but it was more than Hill was giving her and it was slightly reassuring that she was with the good guys and not some rebel faction.

They drove for several hours, or at least it felt like it because nobody was talking and Pips felt quite awkward. She couldn’t tell where they were going, still getting to grips with the geography of a new country. She tried to pay attention to landmarks like Phil had taught her but she was unable to focus properly and settled for watching agents Hill and Sitwell have a conversation with a complex series of eyebrow movements.

  
Eventually the car pulled up and Pips was more than ready to get out of the car but Hill informed her sharply that it was just a pit stop, to grab some pre-prepared snacks and to use the toilet before hearing back on the road.

  
Pips was surprisingly not looking forward to her blueberry and pineapple cereal bar and mango juice but she wasn’t that hungry, much too stressed to indulge. She was planning on spending the remainder of the journey curled up with her iPod, attempting to block out the oncoming sense of claustrophobia that was setting in. She didn’t exactly like cars since her mother’s accident and so far she had managed to keep relatively calm but as time went on she was getting more stressed.  
As they returned to the road Pips settled down with her iPod and the playlist of classical music that her mother had hated, she found it the best way to not start crying.

The SHIELD car pulled up seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Pips had happened to fall asleep but woke up in time to see her destination. They were in a field, around them were more fields and beyond them. She had no idea where she was or what she was doing there. Sitwell carried her bag and Hill waved off the driver leaving the three alone and no doubt lost. Hill walked to the middle of the field pulled out a black blindfold. Not allowing her to have any say Hill wrapped the blindfold around Pips eyes and she found herself being led in many different directions. 10 minutes later the blindfold was removed. Pips was in an underground bunker, the type she had seen on the history channel designed for the nuclear threat. The light was provided by the industrial lights hanging from the ceilings and the walls were made of concrete.

She was led to a small room with a metal, hospital style bed and a sink in one corner. Pips thought it would have made a good prison cell but she didn’t mention that in case they took her advice.  
Pips discovered, as Sitwell placed her bag down on the bed and informed her that there was a panic button on the door, that she was locked in and unable to move around without one of her guards. Whether they were protecting her or keeping her in was a question that played on Pips mind as she placed the special photo by her bed and lay down, finding patterns in the ceiling bolts to pass the time.

An unnamed agent collected her at around 7 o’clock and led her down the corridors to a small canteen. Dinner was served, which meant removed from the packet, at yet another metal table with Hill and Sitwell. Ration pack number 26, a so called ‘chilli con carne’ with pieces of shredded plastic that had been labelled rice. As they ate in silence Pips could tell that it was not the first time Sitwell and Hill had been on missions together and they were clearly more than acquaintances. They were sat quite close together and Pips inner romantic was certain that there was chemistry between them. Once they had finished Sitwell decided to take pity on the confused twelve year old and explained the situation.

“Your uncle’s mission took a bit of a new direction. There was a slight risk to your safety so Phil wanted us to keep you safe here.” Pips raised an eyebrow in disbelief, she didn’t feel very safe. Hill huffed.  
“Look Levin, we are the good guys and we don’t want to be here anymore than you do but Phil made us promise.” Pips scowled and wondered how Sitwell, who seemed quite nice, could get along with someone like Hill.  
“Stop calling me that! My name is Philippa Coulson, not Levin.”

Hill shrugged pretending not to care.  
“Hey, Malachi Levin lied to my mother, made a living out of scamming people and was the second son of the head of Mossad so it actually does matter that I am in no way connected to him.” That left the two SHIELD agents speechless until Sitwell broke the silence.  
“That would explain why a Russian assassin wants you dead.” Pips nodded, unsure how to respond and suddenly she felt a lot less hostile towards these people. They were in fact people who worked with her uncle and who her uncle had trusted with his and her lives. She wouldn’t make the time go any faster if she was in a bad mood. She apologised for shouting and by the next morning everyone seemed to be in happier spirits.

The three remained in the bunker for the next two weeks. Pips celebrated her birthday in the depths of some unknown state playing cards with Jasper and getting a text from Phil promising her that he was safe.


	7. Incentive

Chapter 7

As anyone would expect, after Natasha Romanov threatened to kill Pips, Phil invited her into his home. Pips was told, in as little detail as possible, the vague events of Barton going to find Romanov and her deciding to join SHIELD. It took 6 months for Fury to sign off on Romanov and allow her to leave the base but as soon as the Russian moved out into her own apartment Phil invited her round once a week, along with Barton. For Pips it was a strange environment, her weekly meal with the assassins to keep her on her toes.

  
At first Phil was pleased that Barton and Romanov were getting on so well together, and then came the pranks. He could tell that like children in a playground Barton and Romanov were trying to show off to each other and find their boundaries but unlike children they were using live ammunition. Phil needed to try and calm their energy and violence whilst still giving them a way to bond. He was at his wits end, unable to keep them safe and harmless (relatively).

Pips on the other hand was behaving like an angel, thanks to her knew teacher at school. Mr Anderson was a young, recently qualified teacher from Scotland who had strange and yet most effective. Her grades had gone up slightly since the year before and it was only September. Phil had to admit that whatever techniques her teacher was using they were working. As it turned out, the unusual and unbelievable method was most simple. On an early parents evening, designed to let the parents get to know the new teachers. Amidst Phil’s customary sweep of Pip’s main classroom he saw a large chart on the wall. He pulled Pips over to explain the grid of names and flags and Pips was eager to show off her row full of various flags.

  
“You get a flag every time you do something good,” Phil nodded, able to grasp the concept at that point. “And the flags are in a sort of line across the planet and so you go from Portugal to Spain and then to France and England and then to Norway and Sweden and so on until you get all the way back to the start.” Phil examined his niece’s progress and smiled. She had one of the furthest journeys of the class.

  
“It’s not about that Phil,” Pips said flicking him slightly, “we all get the same prize no matter how long it takes us, we just want to be the best we can be.” Hearing Pips talk with such warmth and compassion for other people reminded Phil why exactly he did what he did in the first place.

As well as making him proud, as always, the themed star chart proved to be just what Phil was looking for. He did some more research online and by asking Pips if she hadn’t seen the whole thing as condescending and almost insulting. Pips confirmed that at first it seemed a bit silly but they ended up loving it. Since Pips was so enthusiastic about everything Phil went shopping the next day on the way home from work and started work on his own chart.

Phil had been working himself up to deal with bloodshed and anger at the introduction of the star chart. There was no way that the ‘assassin associates’ (Barton was trying out nicknames for the two) would take well to being treated like a child. Yet remarkably Barton responded quite well. He had a somewhat amused look on his face when he saw the hand drawn grid stuck on the wall behind Phil’s desk proudly. Perhaps the peaceful reaction was due to the theme that Phil had decided on. The finished chart was black with red and purple accents, especially chosen for his two assets, and Phil had got Pips to help him draw and cut out little images of various weapons throughout history. Romanov had not given away any opinion by facial expression nor by comment as Barton might have done but she must have approved, or at least decided to humour Phil, because she managed to get her first star. Barton looked almost disappointed when Romanov selected an NAA mini-revolver and stuck it firmly to her row. Phil reminded Barton that he just had to behave in order to get his own ‘star’.

  
When Phil didn’t hear from Barton for the rest of the day he became slightly concerned but he was sure that they wouldn’t get into too much trouble whilst trying to be good. As it turned out Barton could get into a lot of trouble.

  
To be fair Barton wasn’t the starter of the trouble, a fact backed up by the bow now stuck on the chart. All that Barton had tried to do was to sit down in a quiet corner of the 5th floor workroom and complete all of his paperwork; Phil was always drowning in official bull crap. Unfortunately there was a level 3 agent who decided that said workroom was the perfect place to hack into the security feed, from the women’s’ changing rooms. Barton had informed Coulson afterwards that he was doing his civil duty by warning the fool that he was doing something both rude and illegal. The other agent then told Barton where to stick his ‘stone age suck up attitude’. Barton still held his ground. When the newbie recruits, the ones that had started two weeks before entered the changing rooms with their first field uniforms to try on. The noble archer had forcibly taken the laptop the agent was using and that was when the agent tried to punch him in the face. Barton did not start the fight, he just finished it.

  
Phil couldn’t really fault the younger man for his actions, as a matter of fact he would have done exactly the same thing. Since the newly appointed deputy director, Maria Hill, had fired the level 3 agent Phil decided it was the only way to show interoffice agreement to reward Barton.

From that moment onwards Romanov and Barton seemed to start a battle to earn the most ‘stars’ in the most ingenious ways. They weren’t above bribing Phil, who responded by playing along (he didn’t want to know how Romanov knew what his favourite pie was or how she got it from Seattle in such good condition but he was grateful). After a while both of the assassins had a good deal of weapons on the chart and people at headquarters had started to notice. Agent Sitwell thought that it was a good idea and considered applying it to his own team but they weren’t exactly in need of incentive. A few of the other handlers and team leaders with ‘trouble makers’ within their ranks asked if they could steal the idea and Phil agreed but left the final decisions to Barton and Romanov since it was their chart.

  
When deputy director Hill, who publically denied liking the chart, but secretly thought it was a brilliant idea, and was amazed to find out that it was Phil’s niece who had inspired the technique. As pained as she was to have to sink so low, she just didn’t sit well with Pips, Hill immediately put Phil in charge of interoffice communications, cohesion and recreation.

Phil had absolutely no idea what to do; he was a soldier, not a party planner. Realising that his previous success was all down to Pips Phil went back to his teenage niece and asked her for advice. If anything she had spent a lot of time with Barton and now Romanov so she should have some idea of what they would. When he told Pips of her task she became almost studious and very serious as if she has been asked to rewrite the world’s policy on income tax and international trading.

  
The next evening Pips presented her uncle with a well researched list of activities that should prove to build relationships between the agents and also to help them let off steam. Some suggestions looked like they were just asking for trouble, cake Tuesdays, for example, when everyone would bring in a form of baked goods. Others seemed to be a bit more practical and Phil immediately purchased 5 scrabble sets with tiles in various languages. That would provide at least some assistance with language training and practice even if it seemed a bit boring to some people.

  
The events that were most highly attended were the ones that were most bizarre. A nerf gun fight, strictly ruled by Phil with Hill leading one team and Fury the other. There was also a paintball fight that lasted 3 days out in the middle of a German forest, a mass yoga class held on the roof of the headquarters and even a fancy dress day the resulted in over 27 separate sightings of people dressed up as director Fury complete with eye patch and leather coat.

  
Eventually equilibrium was reached, each week there would be an educative class of some kind, be it a Krav Maga catch up course or a lesson on French patisserie. At the end of each month an event would be held and places on mini buses would be booked to take large groups of SHIELD employees to theme parks, water parks or even the seaside for a fun day out. Phil reckoned that the mutual enjoyment was a depressing reflection of the poor childhoods and abusive pasts but he also knew that they were all having a lot of but so he didn’t really care. The consequences would probably end up biting him on the arse but Phil could handle that, hopefully.


	8. Mourning Madness

Chapter 8

The date wasn’t marked on the calendar; there was no need for it to be. There was no way that either one of them could have forgotten it.  
It had been three years ago.

  
Phil had taken some time off of work and was more than willing to call Pip’s school saying she was sick if he had to. They had been preparing for the past week and everything was finally ready. All sorts of food had been bought; all of Sophie’s favourites like European Milky Way bars and a thick beef stew with dumplings. Pips had been put in charge of making a playlist of all of Sophie’s music and they would just about get through it in the 3 days they had planned for. The last person who had dropped by was Romanov, who had brought a bottle of unlabelled bottle of vodka for Phil.

When they woke up on the morning, the 3 year anniversary of Sophie Coulson’s death, the atmosphere was different. Uncle and niece were brought together by the shared grief for sister and mother. Phil turned on the iPod and Pips brewed some tea and the waiting began.

  
The initial crying phase passed relatively quickly, Pips curled into a ball, sobbing as Phil held her silently. Pips had planned as such and therefore the saddest of Sophie’s music, mostly around the time Pip’s Grandma died, had been placed at the beginning of the list.

  
After the crying, came the disappointment, the reluctant ‘what ifs’ and the things that they would have done had they had the chance. Pips and Phil had started with some heavy hitting things, like telling Sophie that she was amazing more or they should have not ignored her when she started spouting musical nonsense. Then things progressed into less serious realms. Phil had started it by saying he regretted never telling Sophie that she looked stupid with her glasses on. From there Pips had to say that she was annoyed that she never got to tell her mother how bad she was at making her ‘signature fruit cake’ and that is was essentially just fruit in ethanol.

Pips had timed the second stage to perfection and the happy music started a second before Phil had made his confession, perhaps even prompting him.  
From there things started to quieten down. Lunchtime had been and gone so Phil worked on heating up the stew and then found the DVD that his mother had had made of all of Sophie’s concerts through the years since the first one when Sophie had been just 7 years old. They watched as many of them as they could before eventually drifting off, they were in chronological order and just up to Sophie moving to London. The two of them had awed over the tiny, young Sophie playing a piano that made her look like a pixie and then later at the young woman standing up to a crowd full of people and playing a self composed piece that forced even the oldest and most miserable men in the audience to take notice. No matter how amazing it was they could only fight their heavy eyelids for so long and they knew that they could pick up in the morning.

Day 2 of the mourning extravaganza involved a much more active session. To wake up they watched Sophie’s concerts up until she met Malachi. At that point the tone changed, the music became much happier and more upbeat and Phil and Pips would have enjoyed it if they hadn’t lived through the aftermath. Instead of enjoying the happiness Phil went to break out the bottle of vodka and the two of them went up onto the roof of the building. Phil had paid extra when he rented the apartment to have private roof access and since the first year Pips had found the look over the city to be almost relaxing.

Whilst they were up there, Phil toasting his baby sister with a shot of the icy cold Russian spirit and Pips watching the clouds float past and slowly sipping a cup of tea. They took turns declaring toasts and Pips manage to persuade Phil if she could try a sip, for Sophie. Phil considered saying no but he knew that she would hate the taste and maybe it would put her off for a while. If she did really like it then he was sure that she would be able to handle her liquor the way Sophie could.  
Pips hated it, barely managing to not spit it out, it felt fitting though. She enjoyed feeling the burn; she wanted the day to hurt, to remember the pain. After that Pips became a touch braver with her toasts until she finally proposed the one that would hit the hardest. She looked Phil right in the eye, held up her cup of tea and announced with bravado. “To Father Dearest, for making Sophie happy,”

  
Phil had already down his shot before he really processed what she had said. He turned to look at her, almost disappointed; he had not been expecting that to come up. Pips took advantage of his silence.  
“Was she happy with him Phil? Were they ever in love?” Phil groaned inside but held his composure. He had to think of the best way to phrase his summary of the difficult and testing relationship.  
“I suppose at the start they were in love, they made a good couple.” Pips sniffed at his diplomatic statement and demanded a real answer, from a brother and not from a government agent.  
“Sophie was different back then, younger and idealistic.” Pips nodded and stretched out the crick in her neck.  
“Tell me about my parents Phil, what were they like?”

Malachi was very young when he left home. His father Eli hadn’t wanted to let him go but it would seem hypocritical for his own son to not complete his service. Father and son had had arguments about Malachi’s older brother Gideon being given a better position inside Mossad and having much more trust within the family. The logic of Gideon having more responsibility than his younger brother but Malachi didn’t see it that way, he just felt worthless. He couldn’t be of any use in Mossad and he had been forbidden by his parents from studying art.

  
After three years of national service, working in the infantry with so many different kinds of people. His opinions and views on the world grew vastly with his new colleagues beside him, he had hidden his connection to his father and so people spoke quite openly about him. Malachi didn’t want to return to the formality and oppression of the intelligence community, he wanted to paint, so he bought a plane ticket and flew to London just like that.

Malachi met Sophie in the airport; they were both having problems with passport control. It wasn’t the most romantic location, with sticky grey carpet and dull of white walls but they were both young and foolish daydreamers. Malachi had plans to find his work in the Tate and Sophie was headed for the Royal Conservatory, the artists fell in love and were living together within 6 months.

  
Sophie had always trusted her instincts. That was what her father had told her to do before she flew halfway across the world. Yet when Sophie had met Malachi she went blank, his charming manner and honesty blinded the younger musician. The fighter inside of the American was held down by her inner romantic who desperately wanted to be loved and to be grown up. Sophie was besotted, she was sure her life was headed in the direction she wanted. Malachi was her prince charming, such a handsome and kind intelligent man with such talent and skill. He seemed to understand her need to lock herself away and work on her projects until it was absolutely perfect. She couldn’t imagine the awkward but handsome fool she had found would ever hurt her, he had promised her that much.

The problems began soon after Pips had been born. Phil had never been told how exactly Sophie had found out but she had discovered Malachi’s less than legal activities. He had been forging copies of less known works for a select number of overseas buyers who paid quite well. Sophie was furious, she was angry that he had lied to her and even angrier that he had been involved with dangerous and violent people knowing that she was expecting.  
Malachi had the decency to leave when you were six months old but he wanted to take Pips with him. He knew that his charm factor would be magnified with a little baby girl by his side and he would quickly find someone else to take him in. No doubt a slightly older woman would take pity on him and with one of his charming smiles he would have a sponsor in no time.

For Sophie life was less simple. She was only 23 and hadn’t yet found a job that would have few enough hours but enough money to pay for her and her baby girl. She had had to move out of the flat she had shared with Malachi because she was scared he would try and make trouble. He had gotten some of his shadier friends to hang around the flat and follow Sophie when she went out. For the sake of her baby girl Sophie spent a year working as a checkout assistant in Tesco whist composing every night until she eventually was noticed big time. With her new appointment as third chair she had to find a babysitter for Pips in the evening but she could spend more time during the day and also take Pips with her to rehearsal when she had to. It wasn’t perfect but it was a start. Over the years Sophie became more famous, having many of her pieces played by the best musicians in the world. She was able to take Pips to all kinds of places and although she had had lots of work to do she had always made time to be mother and father to her precious darling.

Pips knew the rest of the story from that point, she had lived it. She thanked Phil for telling her the story that was no doubt difficult for him. They said a fond farewell to the city view and headed back inside to warm up. The next day was slightly happier, Phil and Pips were more relaxed and Pips realised that she still had her mother with her even now. She had her family around her even if it was low in numbers and she could only be grateful for the help Phil had given her.  
On the last evening, as they were washing up from the past few days, Pips offered up the last serious thought. She had been waiting all weekend to say it.  
“Thank you Phil,” she said putting away the plates. Phil replied straight away with a brisk ‘no problem’ and Pips explained that she meant for everything.  
“I know” Phil told her, “and I could never live with myself knowing you were alone.” Pips slept soundly that night. They both did.


	9. The beginning of the end

Chapter 9

A few weeks after the anniversary of Sophie death Pips was still set in a musical mind set. Like her mother she had found refuge in music and she found pleasure in mastering an instrument. The cello was an instrument that Pips found almost human, she couldn’t play well without being synchronised well. She also found that compared to a lot of the other musicians her age she was considered superior. Not in a haughty manner or a snooty one but as an intellectual, an advisor for her peers. And with her teachers her passion made Pips a favourite. They were incredibly proud to have such an unbelievably talented player in their ranks and liked to show her off whenever they could.

  
The only problem was that there were only so many music teachers attached to her school and she had outgrown them all. It was not the most popular instrument as most students preferred to learn the piano or the flute. Pips had started taking a flute club at lunchtimes to keep herself in practice and she had the others whipped into shape in a matter of weeks. The only way she would get any cello practice though was to find another teacher and Pips thought it would be a waste not to use some of her mother’s connections

Phil and Pips took the weekend off and, along with Romanov and Barton one of whom loved classical music and one who needed educating, and headed down to the Avery Fisher hall. The New York Philharmonic had been one of the considerations for Sophie’s career and she always knew when and where they would be playing. Whilst they were there Pips was enraptured by the second chair cellist. The first had been amazing but Pips admired the personal flair of the second and it was a name that Sophie had jotted down years ago as a name to watch.

  
After the concert had finished, and Clint had explained to Tasha just how spectacular the music had been, Pips led Phil through the corridors back to the dressing rooms and practice areas. Lauren Taskhill was easy to find, she was dainty and truly beautiful and carrying a cello on her back as though it weighed nothing. Pips introduced herself and soon found a crowd forming around her of musicians desperate to catch a sight of Sophie Coulson’s daughter. After greeting all manner of musicians, stage hands and composers she managed to get Lauren alone and proposed her offer. Lauren was more than willing to take on Pips as a student and arranged for a time for the lessons. It was lucky that Pips was feeling organisational because Phil was ever so slightly distracted.

  
On the journey home Pips teased Phil endlessly about how he had been ogling the cellist and how he so wanted a date. He managed to not reply with such a childish taunt as sticking his tongue out at his niece but he sorely wanted to. Instead he threatened to get her up at 4:30 in the morning at go running with him and that worked just as well.

As it turned out Lauren was the perfect match for both Pips and Phil. She was a talented but patient teacher and always willing to explain or increase the difficulty of her lesson. The progress made had been astounding. Lauren was always getting on quite well with Phil. Although neither one had said anything about it Pips could see that they liked each other and she was beginning to get impatient. She was sure that if they were together then they would both be happy and successful.  
Pips had ended up discussing this growing problem with Romanov and Hill who had managed to come to terms with each other. Barton had felt left out with the girly talk so the four of them would end up in the range shooting patterns into targets and commenting about Phil’s recent behaviour.

  
“Personally I think they would be good together.” announced Maria shooting her name into the far wall. Romanov scoffed as she dotted the ‘I’ on her black widow title and responded, “It won’t end well, too many secrets.” Barton reached over and flicked the Russian.

“Come on Nat, have a little faith.” Her said angling his bow into the corner of room, he let his arrow loose just in time to knock Pips’ arrow out of the air.  
“It isn’t up to us thought is it? If anything it’s up to Lauren and if she feels brave enough then she’ll ask him to go to one of her concerts.” Everyone in the room agreed with Pips’ statement and although she was correct they couldn’t help but allow themselves to hope they would just get on with it.

It didn’t take too long. One Friday evening, as Pips packed up and got ready for Phil to take her home she found herself being herded towards the SHIELD garage, with the cars that had identical number plates and heated seats. Pips was not given an explanation but she figured out that eventually due to the direction of traffic that they were going to watch a concert. It was unfortunate that Phil felt the need to take Pips with him as protection but at least they were headed in the right direction. Phil was fidgeting and awkward but Pips had confidence in the old Coulson charm (essentially make them think you are an awkward mess and then live up to the expectations).  
At the end of the concert, after Phil had applauded for slightly longer than was strictly necessary, Phil went down to get Lauren and they went out to a diner for a late night meal.

When Barton and Romanov came over for Saturday night dinner Pips spilled the news and let the chaos commence. There was a scramble for more information and the meal was ignored as the need for gossip took over. Once the initial reaction died down a discussion was put forth suggestions for the second date. Someone suggested seeing a film which was met with contempt for being boring but admiration for being classic. Then someone else, probably Barton said something about having a massive game of hide-and-seek but Romanov sighed at him.

  
“Really Barton, after so long of getting them together you want to keep them apart?” Barton submitted to his superiors and retracted his statement meaning that the winning one so far was a visit to the Smithsonian, joint exhibitions on Captain America and the history of the orchestra. Phil texted her later and she replied within seconds with an instant yes.

When the night came Romanov came over to babysit/be educated bout generic sleepover traditions and Phil went away early in the morning with Lauren for their busy day. All day long Pips and Tasha were glued to their phones in case there might be a message or a cry for help. There was no sign of them until he returned late in the night with a huge grin on his face and plenty of gossip.

  
The pattern repeated itself several times, each date getting longer and longer until eventually Phil brought her home. Tasha and Pips had been busy painting each other’s nails and watching pathetically wonderful rom-coms until there was a knock on the door. Lauren looked somewhat surprised to see her new boyfriend’s niece and another young, attractive woman together but once Phil explained she settled down. After introductions and small talk Tasha took Pips back to her place leaving Phil and Lauren to continue their romance.

When Sitwell saw Phil walking around headquarters with an uncharacteristic smile and almost jovial behaviour he demanded an explanation from Maria but the only piece of gossip he was given was that Phil had found himself a ‘cellist’ and that everything was going swimmingly.

The relationship kept growing, past the one year stage, until eventually Phil wanted to talk to Pips about Lauren moving in with them. Phil would have been willing to wait as long as either of the females in his life had needed but they both found the idea agreeable. Privately Pips knew that Lauren could never make a replacement mother but she might make quite a good aunt and she was well matched to Phil.

  
To prepare for the upcoming changes Pips and Lauren had been spending more time with each other and going on day trips together and the like. It had been a bit awkward to start with but they had grown comfortable with the new dynamic.

  
Lauren had decided though that she would leave them to celebrate Pips 16th without her. She had said that it was a special occasion meant for family, they knew that she was right. On the night in February Phil and Pips went to a fancy restaurant and to a special performance of the London philharmonic, even though it meant having to fly to Paris to hear them. Phil had bought her a new camera and various other things and Pips was so very grateful for the gifts but more so for the care he had provided for the past 5 years.

  
Pips didn’t exactly feel a lot different but things were going to change, she had to change schools since hers didn’t provide post-16, she was also planning for Lauren moving in and for her future in general. Phil decided then that she deserved the truth and each night that he was there with her he would try to explain something about his work, the truth and not what it said on the paperwork. They had covered the history of SHIELD early on and as summer approached they were moving onto Phil’s work with Barton and Tasha.

  
Summer held more secrets than just that, summer was when Lauren got given a post in Portland and she decided that it would be best to go before things got too messy. (In Pips opinion things were messy enough but she was biased.) Phil had dealt with the rejection well enough, as well as could be expected for a Coulson anyway which meant that he was really torn up about it but wouldn’t dare to show it.

One day in late May Pips got a call from Phil telling her that he would have to meet her at his office. Pips was doing work experience for the week at a music show and had the afternoon free so she didn’t mind. When she got there the whole building was in a state of mild panic, the sort that meant something new was happening but not quite ‘Oh my God Director Fury just got turned into a goldfish.’ Phil just had time to pull her into his office which was much messier that usual and had two bags on the floor being packed by Sitwell.

  
“What’s going on Phil? Why is everyone so crazy?” Phil had to take a moment to tell her, only just managing to curb his excitement and what he was about to tell her. Jasper picked up bother bags and hugged Pips on the way out. She looked at Phil for an explanation, thinking maybe some form of mind altering psychotic drug or a lack of caffeine.  
“Pips I’m leaving tonight for a while. The found him, he’s not dead.” Pips was still confused and asked for further clarification.  
“Kiddo, SHIELD just found Captain America in the ice, he’s alive.”  
She let him go, not wanting to keep him from searching for their joint idol but she made sure he promised to come home safe.

  
He promised. He lied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for reading this to the end. I decided to ignore Iron man 3 and Agents of SHIELD and Captain America 2 because I can and it didn't really fit with my plans. If you would leave a comment I would be exceptionally grateful.  
> Thank you and good night (or good morning from what the clock is telling me)


End file.
